


"Happy" Anniversary

by mantisbelle



Series: Reduced Polarities [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Drinking to Cope, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Characters, Past Violence, Red Team Locus, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 16:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mantisbelle/pseuds/mantisbelle
Summary: He didn’t know why he’d chosen to go back. He didn’t know what had compelled him to fly to the Temple of Communication.He knew even less why he’d needed to hunt for a splash of orange among the rocks at the bottom, and why it had almost felt like relief when he’d finally found it. He didn’t know why he decided to take part of his find home with him, the sick keepsake that it was, the reminder of pain and suffering andangeranddeaththat it was.It had been a year.





	"Happy" Anniversary

It had been a year. 

It had been one of the absolute most difficult, most painful years of Locus’ life. 

It had been a year.

Still he didn’t know why he’d chosen to go back. He didn’t know why he’d bothered to turn his stealthy delivery of Agent Washington at General Doyle General Hospital into a dual-purposed trip once his precious cargo was gone. 

He didn’t know what had compelled him to fly to the Temple of Communication.

He knew even less why he’d needed to hunt for a splash of orange among the rocks at the bottom, and why it had almost felt like  _ relief _ when he’d finally found it. He didn’t know why he decided to take part of his find home with him, the sick keepsake that it was, the reminder of pain and suffering and  _ anger _ and  _ death _ that it was.

It had been a year.

The Reds and Blues don’t know about it either way. They didn’t know he’d gone to look for Felix’s remains, or that he’d decided to take something back with him. As far as they were concerned, Locus had flown to Chorus and gotten Washington to safety, then had fled just as quickly. 

Locus was grateful for it, the Reds and Blues not knowing that much. They’d realized that he liked his privacy and rarely tried to pry into such personal matters. If he was up late, he was rarely disturbed, and if he was alone he was normally left alone and only given strange looks of concern that Locus did his best to ignore. To his knowledge none of them had ever tried to look into his things to see what sorts of personal effects he had. 

(If one of them had, it would have to be Carolina, Washington, or maybe Tucker. Locus has his doubts that any of the others could keep their mouths shut about it. Certainly not the Reds. Definitely not Caboose.) 

They don’t know that he still has Felix’s old helmet with him. For them, Felix’s memory was just that- something left behind on Chorus, rotting at the bottom of a tower. 

More than anything Locus didn’t  _ want _ any of them to know, but he had to suspect that the secret would get out sooner or later. Eventually, someone was going to get a glimpse at that orange stripe, and then…

Well, he didn’t know what happened then. Locus had his suspicions. It was the reason that he kept A’rynasea stocked with supplies, fueled, and ready to depart at a moment’s notice. It was the reason his armor was kept close at all times. It was the reason that he still hadn’t shared so much of a scrap of information about himself.

Among the silence of an empty room, Locus stared down at the battered orange-striped helmet that sat in his hands. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes or concentrated hard enough he could still hear Felix’s voice. Grating, berating, biting, inviting. Despite it all, Locus missed him. He missed him and he didn’t have the slightest idea as to  _ why. _

Why, even now, a year later, did Felix continue to have such a hold on him?

Locus knew the answer. 

He and Felix had both left little pieces of themselves behind on the battlefield during The Great War. Felix had been the only one left that understood, and after Siris had…

Felix had been the only one for so long. 

Locus missed him. Against all of his greater logic, against his rawest emotions, Locus  _ missed _ him.

And he was holding onto Felix’s helmet like it was somehow keeping him together. Like there was the possibility of him associating anything with it beyond death, sadness, and anger.  

Locus let out a breath that came out far too shaky for his liking and let his head lower. He was glad for his own helmet being there, it was able to keep the jagged edges of Felix’s helmet from cutting into him and adding any more damage than there already was on his face. 

It didn’t provide any relief, or any feeling that he was somehow closer to his old partner. 

Really, Locus didn’t know that he felt anything. He just felt sad. Lonely. Empty, even. Mostly, he felt lonely.

There were remedies for it. Locus knew that he could do what someone smart would, take his things and tuck them away out of sight, then go off to find the others and spend some time around the Reds and Blues. He could seek out their presences, it wasn’t as though they were hard to find. He could sit down for a meal with them like they’d asked him to so many times before and just try to enjoy the company for what it was-

But they wouldn’t want him there. That was something that Locus was fairly confident in. The Reds and Blues were mourning  _ their  _ friend, and  _ their _ loss was so much more important than his had been. His had been earned, and the only one that it had hurt had been him, and Locus was somewhat certain that he had deserved what had happened that day at the Temple of Communication. Still, some parts of the outcome had seemed too positive. Too good when all equations came out in his favor. He hadn’t deserved any of it.

But the Reds and Blues had suffered much worse that day than he had.

They’d lost Epsilon that day. They’d gone to fight Hargrove, and they’d lost their friend, their  _ real _ friend despite Epsilon’s nature as an AI. 

They would have no time for him. None of them would want him around. The Reds and Blues would want their time to reminisce on their lost friend.

Because of that, Locus was certain that he was looking forward to another night off on his own, tucked away in A’rynasea where none of them would dare bother him. None would want to so much as see his face.

For reasons beyond Locus’ comprehension, it hurt. 

This was probably the one night where he was actually going to need the presence of the others, as much as he hated to admit it. And he was sure that it would remain out of his reach.

Locus tucked Felix’s helmet away in the box that he kept under his bed, and got up. The least that he could do for himself was try to get something to eat (even if he was sure that he wasn’t going to be able to manage in the long run.) 

He poked his head out of the room, seeing that nobody was in the hallways and Locus took the first few steps out, heading towards the kitchen so that he could get something. 

When he stepped in, he was greeted by a sea of faces, and they all  _ stared  _ at him. Locus could feel his heart go cold in his chest and said nothing, making a beeline for the fridge and pulling it open. Seeing what they had stored there, Locus found himself mostly scrambling for something to take. 

Two beers, and a couple of slices of bread.

It wasn’t a meal, but it was close enough. If he wanted more food, there were MREs on his ship that he could use. 

Locus just nudged his way out of the kitchen and hoped that nobody would bother to follow after him. When it came down to it, the thing that he really needed the most was the space.

Why he’d bothered to grab two bottles of beer was at least partially beyond Locus,  but he thought that he knew what he wanted to do. He wished that he’d had the foresight to get a third, but  _ that  _ possibility was one that was simply coming too late. Even then, the symbolism of it would be misplaced.

Locus wandered back to the room that he shared with Red Team and grabbed the sealed box with Felix’s helmet, making sure to arrange everything that he needed before leaving the base entirely and heading out to the desolate spot that he’d taken to spending his time in. At least there nobody would come bother him, and Locus was sure that the only one that was even remotely aware of his tendency to go there was Washington. 

He took a seat in the one chair that he laid out there and moved the small card table that he’d managed to find so that it was next to him. Solemnly, Locus removed Felix’s helmet and propped it up on the table next to him. 

Locus opened the two beers and set them both down on the table. One at his right, and one to the right of Felix’s helmet. 

The way that Felix would have wanted it, and  _ oh  _ how that sent a chill down his spine. 

Locus stared at the ground, running his thumb over the label before he finally spoke. 

“It’s been a year.” Locus said, closing his eyes and  _ wishing _ that Felix would be there to respond. There was nothing. Of course there was nothing.

It was wrong to want that, Locus was sure. But back at the Temple of Communication the last thing that he and Felix had been able to do was communicate. If only he’d gotten to say more, if only Felix would have listened,  _ if only if only if only _ -

“Uh, dude?”

A voice behind him made Locus jolt, so badly that he nearly ended up spilling his beer in the process. 

Grif.

Why was Grif here?

Locus looked back at the man over his shoulder, barely enough so that he didn’t have to show his face properly. All he could hope was that Felix’s helmet was out of view. 

He needed to say something. 

“What is it?” Locus asked, forcing the calm  into his voice so that he wouldn’t raise any more alarms that he wanted to. 

“Uh, well I wanted to talk to you.” Grif said, starting down the hill that led towards where Locus was camped out. “But you’re out here talking to-” He paused, and that was when Locus knew. Grif had seen the helmet. 

But he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, Grif decided to finish. “Yourself.”   


Locus looked at the helmet and sighed, bringing his beer up to his lips to drink before letting himself get up and turn to face Grif. 

Grif, who had somehow managed to find him. 

“I needed some time alone.” Locus said, keeping his voice down. “I would appreciate it if-”

“Nah.” Grif answered. “I wanted to make sure that my partner is okay.” 

Locus felt his heart freeze over in his chest.  _ Partner.  _

Despite everything, Grif still somehow insisted on calling them partners. 

“I’m fine.” Locus mumbled. “Really.”

“I don’t think you are.” Grif answered as he dropped onto the ground near where Locus was standing. “I wanted to talk to you though.” 

Locus watched Grif, judging the man perhaps a bit more than he really needed to. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what Grif would want to talk to him about. There had to be something, but….   
  
“I see.” Locus mumbled, running his thumb over the peeling label of his drink nervously. “What is it?”   
  
“I wanted to know why you won’t come spend time with us.” Grif said, leaning back and making himself  much more comfortable than Locus thought he had any right to be. “Dude, we all saw you take some bread and two beers and just  _ leave _ .” He paused. “You’re going to have to talk eventually.”    
  
"I don't..." Locus hesitated, wondering what he could actually get by letting himself protest. These were the reds and blues. They'd proven to be much more lenient than people that Locus had been around in the past, but he still worried nonetheless. "I don't want to talk about it."    
  
Grif nodded, and Locus couldn't help but think that he looked so sad. "It's just..." He stretched his legs out, leaning back in a way that made it look like he was almost doing his best to make the ground his bed. "You came here and you became part of Red Team and I thought that meant that we were partners."    
  
_ Partner. We're partners. You and me, we're survivors. Partner, partner, partner, let a people person handle this, we're partners, no violence between partners, partners communicate, partners- _   
  
Locus hated the way that he felt when he heard the word. He hated the thousands of feelings that it summoned up, and in the end Locus wasn't able to stop himself from looking over at the space where he'd set Felix's helmet.   
  
Partners.   
  
"I don't know that I like using that word." Locus admitted, knowing that Grif was looking over at the helmet. "Especially not..." he grimaced, knowing that his usual frown was just managing to get a little deeper. "Not now."   
  
"Dude, you know that you're a part of this, right?" Grif questioned. "I mean, come on! The guys like having you around. I mean, sure, I think Sarge gets frustrated that you're better at strategy than he is, and Simmons is kind of..." Grif's voice trailed off. "Well, he's Simmons, you know? Donut likes you, hell even the Blues don't really hate you." He leaned in towards Locus, in a way that only made Locus uncomfortable and lean back as a response. "So what is your deal?"   
  
Locus swallowed, and looked back at Felix's helmet. A reminder. A scar.    
  
"I don't understand how you can forgive me." Locus finally stated, biting out every word as clearly as he could. "Any of you."    
  
Grif blinked, and he took a step back. He looked utterly shocked by the statement, and Locus sincerely wished that he could have blamed him. But this wasn't so simple, nor would it be so easy. "I mean..." Grif paused, looking so sad that Locus wanted to reach out and do something to help.    
  
He didn't allow it. Locus wasn't a people person, he didn't even know how to deal with people on a good day most of the time. Getting away from Felix, from mercenary work, from Chorus and Charon had helped but...   
  
It was a plague that he'd had his entire life. Poor social skills. The war had only made it worse.    
  
"Do you know how many people I have killed?" Locus asked, mirroring a question that Grif had once asked him. Back when they had first united after Chorus, riding in A'rynasea's cockpit and Grif hadn't been able to stop talking for hours. "How could you-"   
  
"You're turning over a new leaf, right?" Grif questioned back. "Doing what's right, looking for redemption and all of that."    
  
"I can't-"   
  
"Dude, stop." Grif cut him off, raising a hand to make it seem like more of an intervention. "We let Wash stick around and he shot  _ Donut _ . Carolina pushed us around for weeks and we let her stick around. Why wouldn't we let you stay too?"   
  
And really, Locus didn't have such a good answer to that. There were the obvious charges- Chorus, shooting Washington, capturing half of Red Team in addition to Washington and holding them for several months, tracking chips. Countless murders, ransom, attempted genocide...   
  
Why would  _ anyone  _ want him around in the first place?   
  
He was trying to change, but the past was just too heavy. Too heavy that one couldn’t just ignore the weight and move on.   
  
"I just don't understand." Locus grumbled. "Before things..." His voice trailed off, his gaze falling on Felix's helmet once more. Things hadn't made sense before. If anything, they'd made even less sense, all because Felix loved to meddle and keep him down. "I'm just not like you."   
  
Grif reached out for him, and Locus all but flinched when he felt Grif's hand land on his shoulder. He forced it back, and didn't dare let himself show how uncomfortable the contact made him. "Locus, you're allowed to say whatever it is that's bothering you." He looked over at Felix's helmet pointedly. "We all know what happened last year. What today is. None of us could have ever forgotten."   
  
Locus swallowed hard, and hoped that the discomfort wouldn't show. "I don't want to bother all of you when you're the ones that lost a friend." He said finally. That was it. Felix wasn't his friend, he was just...   
  
His partner. The only consistent presence in Locus' life over the course of the better part of a decade and then some on top of that.    
  
And Felix was gone. And Locus was alone.    
  
He'd let Felix die. He’d let the one person he had left  _ die _ .   
  
Grif stared at him, mouth dropping open a little bit in disbelief. "That's..." He paused. "Was he your friend?"   
  
"No." Locus muttered. It was the only good answer he could give, all things considered. The AI at the alien temple had provided him with the information that made Locus feel comfortable saying as much. "He was just my partner."    
  
"Is... that not the same thing?" Grif asked, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "I mean, that's basically the same as being best friends."    
  
"No." Locus clarified. "It's not."    
  
"Do you consider us friends?" Grif asked then, staring him down. "Me, Simmons, everyone else."    
  
Locus swallowed. "I don't know that I can. I don't know if I should." 

Grif stared at him, and he looked sad. Like Locus had managed to just break his heart, and Locus wouldn’t have blamed him for being angry. But Locus didn’t know that he could so easily just go ahead and say that they were friends. Not after everything, not when there was a fear that clung to Locus that constantly whispered everyone you care for dies.   
  
Felix, Siris, his entire unit during the war.    
  
He couldn’t saddle Grif or the Reds and Blues with that sort of burden. To do so would be unnecessarily cruel.    
  
“I think you’re my friend.” Grif said, his voice quiet. “I mean, you’re my partner” He paused. “And I’m not going to apologize for calling you that.”    
  
Locus squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment. “It’s just... “ His gaze strayed back over to Felix’s helmet. “Hard. And calling anyone partner isn’t exactly easy.”    
  
He sipped from his beer and reached out for the second bottle that he’d brought out there with him. Wordlessly, Locus held it out in Grif’s direction, and Grif didn’t hesitate to take it.    
  
“Thanks.” Grif mumbled. He paused, looking down at the drink like there was something that he wanted to say about it. Locus doubted that Grif was going to let the fact that the drink had just been Felix's in spirit unacknowledged.    
  
"It's the least I could do." Locus mumbled, sipping from his own beer and wishing that he knew what he was supposed to say. "Considering."   
  
Grif looked at the helmet then back over at Locus. “I don’t blame you.” He said quietly. “For keeping that around.”    
  
Locus reached out for Felix’s helmet and picked it up with one hand. The helmet somehow managed to feel much heavier than it should have. It was almost like every sin and every bad memory somehow managed to add a pound to it.    
  
He set his drink back down on the table as he brought the helmet in front of him properly. Absentmindedly, Locus let his thumb trail over the broken visor's edge. "I shouldn't have it." Locus said, a little bit too quietly. "For a lot of reasons."    
  
"I dunno, man." Grif responded. "Everyone has their dark stuff, it's nothing."    
  
"But-"   
  
"But Simmons can't live without Basebook and needs a father figure to tell him he’s good, and Donut has a weird diary and a ton of repressed stuff, Tucker used to do weird things to a rock and has abandonment issues or something. And there's no way Wash and Carolina don't have their own stuff going on in their heads." Grif said with a shrug, too calm and somehow managing to seem far away. "So you keep your old partner's helmet. Whatever. It's not like you have dead freelancers rotting on your ship or something."    
  
Locus nodded, feeling at a loss for words. Maybe it would help to explain himself, to explain why he wanted to keep Felix close.    
  
But it wasn't that easy and never had been. It never would be.    
  
"Felix... wasn't good." Locus murmured ."In more ways than you realize."    
  
"I'm not going to make you talk about it." Grif said, blinking and sipping from his drink. "Just... we get it, I think." He explained. "You've been through some shit. So have we." He paused. "It's not like everyone else doesn't realize that he died today or something."    
  
"But-"   
  
"Yeah, we knew Church better." Grif mumbled. "And you're new. Whatever. That doesn't mean that it's worth it to keep you in the cold or something."    
  
Locus blinked and nodded, reaching down to set Felix's helmet down by his feet and picking his drink up once more. "I just feel wrong interrupting." He said. "And I like the quiet anyways."    
  
"You don't have to justify being alone." Grif murmured. "Just... don't do it because you're punishing yourself or something. It doesn't help anyone, dude."    
  
Locus blinked and nodded slowly, still feeling like he didn't know what to do. He just wordlessly raised his glass and offered it to Grif in a lazy sort of toast. Grif understood and mimicked him, but didn't move to clink their bottles together.    
  
"What are we toasting to?" Grif asked, staring at Locus and looking confused.    
  
Locus scrambled to come up with a good answer for Grif. Finally, something came to mind that he could give. "To friends." Locus managed to get out, even though his voice came out barely above a whisper. "Past and present."    
  
"And future?"   
  
"And future." Locus finished. Grif seemed satisfied by the addition, and the two bottles collided with a quiet noise that somehow managed to hurt Locus' ears.    
  
The two of them sank back in their seats, both of them getting comfortable and enjoying the quiet of night as they finished off their beers. The company was pleasant, even if it was unexpected. Grif was definitely a lot better than sitting around and talking to a helmet all night in a perversion of what Grif had once done with volleyballs.    
  
Down in his core, Locus wanted to say things. He wanted to call Grif a friend or partner, but those words weren't going to come so easy. Not when it still felt like he didn't belong there with the Reds and Blues, and when it felt like Grif should have been calling someone else partner instead.    
  
Maybe someday it would be a word he felt comfortable using again, Locus mused privately. if he did, maybe giving it to Grif wouldn't be so bad.    
  
"Hey," Grif spoke up, effectively shaking Locus out of his own thoughts.    
  
"Yes?"   
  
"We should go in."  Grif said, standing up and stretching, empty bottle still in his hand. "The guys are going to be wondering where we are, and I think they wanted to watch a movie like old times." He watched Locus. "What do you say?"    
  
Locus hesitated. He could definitely say yes, but he didn't know that he wanted to. But Grif was right, the others were probably wondering where they are, or at least where Grif was.    
  
Maybe it wouldn't hurt to spend time casual time with the others.    
  
"Okay." Locus said, standing up and collecting the few things that he had, including Felix's helmet. Someday he would know what to do with it, but for now, it could wait .   
  
He followed Grif in wordlessly, put his stuff away, and then joined the others for a movie night. Locus decided to hang towards the back, but he felt welcomed all the same. Grif deciding to stay by him had a lot t do with that.    
  
And in the end?    
  
Being with the Reds and Blues really wasn't so bad.    
  
The quiet thanks that he got from Grif, Wash, and Caboose for coming along and watching made it worth it.    
  
In that moment, Locus felt welcome. And that was really all that he wanted most days, to be around people that genuinely wanted him there and let him know.    
  
Locus made a silent resolution to spend more time with the Reds and Blues. Starting with breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all comments and criticism are greatly appreciated.
> 
> [I'm on tumblr. Sometimes stuff happens. I'm always willing to take new prompts and questions there!](http://tyrian-callows.tumblr.com/)


End file.
